


Of Hairspray and Spaceboots

by Punk_Grape



Category: Splatoon
Genre: AU, M/M, Model AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22784293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_Grape/pseuds/Punk_Grape
Summary: Aloha is the top model in the industry, often kept close by the Forge brand, never failing to dazzle the media-filled crowd. He is fully aware that one wrong move can make his career tumble.
Relationships: Aloha/Army (Splatoon)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28
Collections: CoroikaCollection





	Of Hairspray and Spaceboots

**Author's Note:**

> Another AU a friend and I share. Basic summation, Army is the head of Forge, Emperor is head of Enperry.

The air reeked of hairspray as Aloha sat on a stool having his makeup done, the show started in ten minutes and he was running behind. Every show the Forge brand put on, Aloha was the opener and the closer, being the most popular model they had, he was picked to showcase what the company wanted the most focus on; he was supposed to open, and he still had to get dressed. It wouldn’t have been an issue, had his makeup artist arrived on time; he understood being late, but his career would die if he were late even once. Five minutes before he was supposed to walk, and he was finally released to go get dressed; thankfully his first outfit was a simple one, a hawaiian style shirt, airy and gentle on the skin, a nice pair of board shorts, and some very practical sandals. It was not what some would expect from the world of high fashion, but the Forge brand was about practicality as well, their next line focusing on making the simple, simply marvellous. 

All the models in the dressing area had on outfits similar, all looking like common clothes to the untrained eye, but to those who knew, could see it had Forge written all over it. The lights had dimmed, and Aloha took a calming breath before adopting a neutral expression; he loved to smile, but knew better than anyone that a neutral face sold best. He got his signal, and the moment before he stepped out, the spotlights trained on his entrance; the light was hot on him as he emerged from the dark curtains, shoulders down, head held high, back the perfection of upright. 

The crowd was silent as the music played, Aloha keeping his eyes trained straight ahead, not focusing on the crowd at all. One foot in front of the other, he was the image of perfect; halfway to the edge, he offered a cameraman a sly grin, before returning to his neutral look. The end of the catwalk was soon upon him, his routine was second nature; walk, stop, pose, walk, spin, continue. His pose, a rather sassy one that the cameras adored, was flawless as ever, his return to walking was perfect. 

Next came the spin, something he’d done time and time again, he entered perfectly, front foot holding the spin as his back foot swung forward. As Aloha put his foot down, he misplaced, foot turned ever so slightly, throwing him off balance. One moment, the model was elegant, the sight of perfection, the next, he was hitting the catwalk face first with a solid thud. 

Everyone fell silent, the music stopped, no one spoke for a second. Aloha’s heart was pounding in his ears, broken through only by the snapping of cameras; his worst fear had come to pass, he had fallen. A jacket was tossed over him, one that smelled familiar, Army. He laid there, large jacket covering him from the views of any more camera shots, feeling a slight tickle under his nose; he was bleeding. 

The longer he lay there, the more embarrassed he became, and the more he began to register pain. He knew he at least twisted his ankle, that much he could tell, but that took a backseat to the most pressing issue; he, top model Aloha, had fallen as the opener for Forge. Not only would he have to take a long break to recover, but he was certain his career with the company was over. People would talk, taint their new line with comments on his failure, they would take a serious hit, all because of him. 

Breaking him from his thoughts were two pairs of hands grabbing him to haul him up, then assisted him walking off the stage. To his left was Diver, his best friend, both in the business and personal life, and to his right was Army, his boss and CEO of Forge. Before he could stop himself, tears spilled forward, he’d screwed up, big time; both men looked at Aloha, worry clear as day, neither having seen Aloha in tears before. “I’m sorry, sorry. Fucked up,” he whispered, tears mixing with the blood dripping from his nose. 

Diver was quick to grab tissues, handing some to Army who started wiping away tears and blood. After the model’s face was clear, Army asked Diver to once again help him, to get Aloha to the car so they could go to the hospital. 

The hospital, where it doesn’t matter who you are, but the severity of your case; and to the three men’s disappointment, simple foot pain let them be put in line for a doctor to see them. Aloha was breathing hard, occasionally letting out a pained laugh as he didn’t want to cry; the laughs concerned Diver and Army, but not nearly as much as the small sick child wandering ever closer. 

The kid looked miserable, if the three had to guess had the flu, and he was walking really close. Army didn’t need Aloha getting sick on top of having a hurt foot, and Diver could see their boss getting closer and closer to blowing his top at the boy. Deciding to keep the kid away, Diver stood up to intercept him, and bent over slightly. “Hey bud, I know you don’t feel great, might be best if you go back to your parent, they’re probably really worried about you.” 

To the other two’s surprise, the child wandered off, and Diver reached over to a mounted hand sanitizer to clean them off in case the child breathed on him. “Thanks,” Army muttered as Diver returned to his seat, and the waiting game began. 

Aloha was in pain, he was tired, and he was bored; one could be fixed easily, his phone was out in a flash, thumb swiping through all the apps he had, deciding what to do first. He could go on instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, or play a game, maybe Peggle or candy crush; whatever it was, it would keep him occupied. Twitter was his first choice, noticing the obscene amount of notifications for mentions, replies and retweets, but barely had time to skim through them, as Army plucked the phone from his hand. “Wah hey! Give it back, Army.” 

“No,” his boss said as he pocketed the device. “Social media is a bad idea, especially right now.”

A whine came from the model, but failed to surprise the others. “Can I at least have I to play a game on, I’m so bored I might die.” 

“Doubtful,” Diver said, but tossed his phone into Aloha’s lap. “Knock yourself out.” 

The loaned phone kept Aloha busy for all of ten minutes, before he handed it back to Diver, saying it wasn’t the same. He slumped in his chair, knowing full well it was bad for posture, and leaned his head back, this would take forever. 

To the model, it did, while the others talked, planning something or another, Aloha didn’t care, he was now out of the business for sure. The thought weighed on him, the fall replaying over and over in his head; how could he make such a dumb mistake, he was always perfect. But now, he was just a person with a hurt foot, a gorgeous person who’s life had revolved around his appearance since he was eight that had fallen from the limelight.

“Aloha you okay?” He heard one of his companions ask, he wasn’t sure who, he didn’t care.

“‘M fine,” he replied with a slight nod, wondering if Diver would ditch him; they’d become friends while learning to model as kids, that being their first bonding point. Over time they had become better friends, finding other common interests outside their work, but Aloha still entertained the idea. He knew Army would drop him like yesterday’s trend, he’d cost the company big bucks, why bother keeping him around. 

They knew Aloha was certainly not fine, his body language spoke volumes; the model simply looked defeated, like he’d resigned himself to some bad eventuality. Before they could ask, though, a nurse came over with a wheelchair, and they helped him in it; after a small debate, Army tagged along, Diver remaining behind to wait. 

Aloha’s foot was poked, squeezed, rubbed, then put through several scans, and soon they had an answer; an avulsion fracture. As Aloha had fallen, something went wrong, a tendon that attached to a bone in his foot had torn off the chunk of bone it attached to. “So I broke my foot,” he asked, not pleased in the slightest, as a nurse fitted him with one of the large, clunky foot braces. “Broke my foot and gotta wear this. Great.” 

Army rolled his eyes, he was simply glad they knew what had happened. As they left the small room, Aloha in crutches, Diver shook his head as he heard Aloha whine, “this thing will clash with quite literally everything I own.” 

The model didn’t have much of a choice though, as they left the hospital, dropping Diver off at his place, before making their way to the offices. Aloha noticed, and pointed out that Army had missed the turnoff for his house. “I know, but you’re staying with me until you’re healed.”

“What?”

“You’re staying in my penthouse so I can keep an eye on you and take care of you until you’re okay to walk again.”

Aloha shook his head, “Army, no, why?”

The car pulled into the parking garage beneath the building, and the two walked to the elevator. “Because I’m worried about you and care about you. Now quit whining or I’m not making you hot chocolate.”

Aloha’s eyes went big, he loved hot chocolate, especially the way Army made it. “Okay, I’m quiet. Thank you.”


End file.
